Reflections
by Lady CC Kagehoshi
Summary: Next Chapter:Frank reflects. I don't think anyone has ever done him. A series of one-shots. Reviews are appreciated.
1. Peter

**Author: **Lady CC Kagehoshi

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter does not belong to me, it belongs to JK Rowlings.

**Summary: Peter **reflects.

This is my first HP story. It's unbeta-ed so please forgive me. Reviews are quite welcome and so are constructive criticisms. No flames please.

* * *

I was always the follower. 

_A slightly-chubby man ran up to another. "James! Don't leave me behind." He huffed, out of breath; he asked his companion, "What did you think of the test? Wasn't it difficult?"_

I was the one they made fun of.

_James laughed. "Honestly Peter, it was extremely easy." Catching sight of another student in sixth year with raven hair just like himself, James hollered, "Hey Sirius! Wormtail over here finds the potions test difficult."_

_Sirius mischievously poked Wormtail. "You have to study more then." _

I was the one left behind.

"_Come on Jamesy-boy your little Lily wants to talk to you. See you later Peter!" With a wave, both of them left._

I was the one taken.

_There is dark room wherein a blond boy was kept. Shackles chained him to the wall. A black-haired man was shoving potions down his throat. "No please!" cried the blond. _

I was the one broken.

_A shivering man bows down in front of a throne. "Master..."_

I was the one to betray them.

"_They reside in Godric's Hollow."_

"_Excellent."_

I was the one to destroy them.

_A blond points a wand to another. "Lily and James, how could you Sirius!"_

I was the one who fled.

_A rat scampers of into an alley._

I was the one who was found.

"_This is Scabbers."_

"_He's an animagus Harry."_

I was the one given.

_A silver hand glints under the moonlight._

I am the one who serves my lord.

I am Wormtail.


	2. Quirrell

**Author:** Lady CC Kagehoshi

**Disclamer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. It belongs to JK Rowlings.

**Summary:** Quirrell Reflects.

_I've decided to make this a series of one-shots. This might be wrong because its been a while since I've read the first book so I don't know if JKR gave Quirrell a first and last name. This is also a lot longer than the other one (four pages including my blathering) since not much about Quirrell is known. I'm happy right now. Take this however you like._

**TeenTypist**- Thank you for being the only person to review me. I'm glad you find this nice.

* * *

I was a brilliant star once. A bright star that gave light to others. 

"_Could you help me with my homework Cade?" Two bright brown eyes stared pleadingly at someone called Cade. "I have to turn this in to Professor Binns tomorrow and I'm not quite sure about my work."_

_Cade smiled easily at the boy who idolized him. "Sure. I know how boring Binns can be."_

"_Thank's Cade."_

I was the best.

_In an enormous room, a multitude of people were cheering. Fragmented conversations can be heard._

"..._I'm so glad we've..."_

"_Yes, can you believe its been seven years since..."_

_Two people were talking, with and separate from the throng. One was a teenager, the other, an elderly woman in green robes._

"_Congratulations Mr. Quirrell, you've graduated top of your class. Gryffindor is proud to have you."_

_Cade, his blushing obvious even with his tanned skin replied, "thanks Professor McGonagall."_

But then, I made a mistake...

"_Headmaster. I'd like to take a one year sabbatical. I feel, I ought to have some first hand experience in the field."_

_Blue eyes regarded him. "Very well Professor Quirrell. If you believe that you must."_

"_I do, Headmaster."_

And made so many more.

_A dark forest. Many creatures scurry about, rustling the leaves, but leaving an enclave which housed a lone snake. A young man with bleached hair stumbles inside it, panting._

"_Where in Merlin's name did that cat go?" He mutters to himself, cursing loudly, foolishly, in the dark. The snake awakens and looks at him._

"_A snake! What the..."_

_A black cloud condenses in front of the snake then enters the man's body. The man blacks out._

It took a while.

_Pale skin, drenched with sweat. Someone screams._

"_No! No! No!" An unending mantra as the pale male huddles into a ball, rocking himself slowly. "Nooo..."_

But I finally lost.

"_There is no good. No evil. Only power, and those who are afraid to use it."_

_Brown eyes, once full of life, were dull with death. Red eyes glinted with malice._

And so I returned. An abomination.

"_Head-Headma-master. I'm back to tea-teach D-Defence."_

I was myself, and not myself. Imprisoned within my own fear. And then I met him...

"_P-P-Potter, c-can't t-tell you how p-please I am to meet you."_

He was my salvation and my destruction.

"..._Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh..."_

I tried to... I tried to help. To stop myself.

_A turbaned man mutters under his breath slowly. A broom in the sky jerks._

But I was too weak to. To show myself. To die by the hand of my master.

"_B-b-but Severus, I-"_

And so I did his will.

_A silver key was grabbed by a hand._

I was his servant.

"_I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."_

I tried to spare him more pain. The pain and humiliation I felt because of my master.

"_Master, you are not strong enough!"_

But I was powerless again.

"_SEIZE HIM!"_

Then I saw what he could do.

_Blistering fingers and howls of agony._

So I gave myself to him.

"_Harry!"_

And now, I, Cade Aster Quirrell, am finally free.

* * *

Cade Aster- from latin cado astrum meaning fallen star. 


	3. Frank

**Author:** Lady CC Kagehoshi

**Disclamer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me. It belongs to JK Rowlings.

**Summary:** Frank Reflects.

_I have not been able to find anyone writable in books two and three so I'm skipping directly to four. This chappy is about the guy who was killed by Voldie at the beginning of book four, if you don't remember. Reviews are hoarded._

**p0pptartt**- I'm doing Franky now. Thanks for putting me on your watch list. I'm probably gonna do Crouch Jr. and Sr. too.

**Fragmata**- I'm a favorite… :)

* * *

Why am I the way I am? People talk about me, not to my face, but to my back. 

"_Unfriendly, like…Never wanted to mix, he didn't."_

They say I changed.

"_War turned him funny, if you ask me."_

War changes everyone.

I am not who I was before.

"_Frank, come inside." A middle-aged woman with graying hair told her son._

"_But mother-" A grimy hand wipes on well-worn trousers._

"_No buts, young man. In!" The child runs to the cottage._

I was proud.

_Three boys taunt another. "What do you do there on the hill? Does your mother steal scraps from the kitchen?" As the three laugh, the fourth lunges at them._

I had no father. My mother was all that I had.

_A brown haired boy clenches his fists as his mother dabs at his scrapes._

She was devoted to our master.

_A gray haired female with her head bowed is instructed by a man in fine clothes._

I left her.

"_I'm twenty-one, mum! I have to go, my country needs me." Brown eyes shine as he pounds his fist on the table._

I left her so I could go to hell.

_A grey sky and a reddish sun show. Shots and explosions fill the scene with noise. Bodies littered what once were streets. Falling debris wound others. Men cry out._

_A soldier with a cry, shoots another. "Würfel!"_

_The bullet hits a leg. With an agonized scream, he falls down, clutching at the injured appendage._

I was in hell for six years. When it ended, I was numb from it all.

_Men, crying in joy, laugh inside the camp, hugging each other._

_An empty face looks blankly at the radio that tells Germany's surrender._

And so I returned, only to deal with another blow.

_A blond haired youth looks with surprise at the haggard man. "Didn't you know? Ms. Bryce died two weeks ago. The funeral was held yesterday."_

My mother loved the place, in turn, I will love it.

_Weeds are plucked relentlessly as scarred hands pull. The garden the man is in looks loved and well kept._

I do not care for others, especially since the incident.

_A sullen face repeats inside a sterile room "I told you, I didn't do it!"_

For over forty years have I stayed, tormented by others.

_Two boys on bicycles throw stones, hitting dusty windows. An old man, limping, goes outside shouting. The boys leave, laughing._

I will stay there until I die.

_An old man screams, his walking stick clattering to the floor. Green light flashes and Frank Bryce crumples to the floor._

* * *

I'm thinking that he was born in 1918 if he was turning 77 by 1994. He'd be 21 when the war started in 1939. He'd have been around 27 when WWII ended. 

Würfel- die in the German tongue.


End file.
